


Can Scarce Tell Dark From Light

by CriticalRolemance (LiveLaughLoveLarry)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Comfort, Early Mornings, Essek Week (Critical Role), M/M, Mornings, Nightmares, or what passes for morning in xhorhas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:35:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23877784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveLaughLoveLarry/pseuds/CriticalRolemance
Summary: Written for theEssek Weekcontinuation prompt:Sun/MoonCaleb is the sun. He is beautiful and bright -- and explosive.Essek is the moon. He is beautiful and gentle -- and dark.Somehow, they balance.
Relationships: Essek Thelyss & Caleb Widogast, Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 2
Kudos: 90





	1. Always Keep Me Warm

**Author's Note:**

> This was a lot of fun to write. It didn't go exactly where I expected, and I might yet write another scene or two to fill that in, but also I have like four other WIPs to finish (not to mention a million ideas) so who knows. 
> 
> Title from Vixy & Tony’s “My Love Was Like The Moon” ([x](http://vixyandtony.com/lyrics_moon.html)) which looks at the pros and cons of a lover who is like the moon, like the sun, like the ocean.

_ Caleb is the sun. He is beautiful. He is fire. He is warmth. He is hope. He is new beginnings. Essek has rarely seen the sun, and he thinks it is beautiful in Caleb’s eyes, his hair, his skin, his mouth. But Essek is not made for the sun. Sometimes he gets burned. But he will risk explosions a thousand times for the way it feels when Caleb smiles at him. _

Caleb rises with the dawn, or what would be the dawn were Rosohna not bathed in perpetual night. There are times Essek wishes that his lover’s internal chronometer was not quite so precise, and this is one of them.

Essek yawns, blinking sleepily as he watches Caleb cross to the washstand. Every motion is brisk and precise, as though he has been awake for hours rather than minutes. Essek stretches out a drooping arm towards him.

“It’s too early, Caleb,” he says “Come back to bed.”

Caleb glances back at him, a hint of a smile flashing across his mouth. “Nein,” Caleb says. “There is work to be done. And you promised that you would teach me a new spell today.”

Essek sighs. “I suppose I did,” he says. “But the day is still young, there is time for that later. Rest a while longer.”

Caleb looks at him for a long moment, then crosses to the bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress. Essek reaches for him, burying long fingers in long hair, and Caleb smiles. He leans down, pressing his lips to Essek’s, soft and tender, and Essek could be content to melt into those lips forever. 

But Caleb pulls away a moment later, and Essek has to stop himself from pouting. Someone of his station does not  _ pout _ . Even if he really,  _ really _ wants to. 

“Come on,” Caleb says, gently cajoling. “I’ll make breakfast. Do you want pancakes or eggs?”

“You really don’t have to do that,” Essek says. “That’s what magic is for, or we have people who-”

“I like to,” Caleb says. “You know that. It is… soothing for me.”

He does know. He has watched Caleb many times, watched him lose himself in careful measurements and precise timing and steady hands. It is a magic of its own, and Caleb approaches it with the same exacting care, yet with the comfort of knowing that making a mistake only means an oversalted egg or a burnt loaf of bread. It is as complex as any spell, and yet it is simple, it is gentle, it is forgiving, in a way that magic is not. In a way that Caleb is still learning to be. 

He loves to watch Caleb at it, loves to watch the way his brow furrows and his eyes go sharp as he works, his whole focus on creating something new out of the various ingredients. And of course, the end result is usually more than delicious, but Essek cares less about whatever pastry or pasta Caleb is whipping up and more about how happy it makes Caleb to prepare it.

It is this prospect that finally persuades Essek to drag himself out of bed. Caleb watches him with a soft smile, taking in the long, lean form of the dark elf. 

“You’re not going to offer to help?”

“Nein,” Caleb says. “Use your floaty thing, if you cannot be bothered to stand up out of bed unaided.”

“You are a scamp.”

“You are a slob.”

“Oh, you’ll pay for that one,” Essek says, laughing. He strides across the room, towering over Caleb by several inches -- and Caleb flinches. He steps back, bumping against the wall, his face suddenly pale and gaunt, his eyes hollow. His hands rise, sparks flying from his fingertips and sizzling against Essek’s skin.

“Bitte,” he murmurs. “Bitte, nicht-”

Essek immediately moves back, giving Caleb space. “Caleb,” he says, voice soft. “Caleb, I’m sorry. I won’t touch you. You’re safe.”

The distance slowly fades from Caleb’s eyes, and he begins to tremble. He slides down the wall to the floor, burying his head in his hands.

Essek scrambles closer, then stops, holding off. “Caleb,” he says softly. “May I touch you? I only wish to comfort you, I promise I won’t-”

“Please,” Caleb says, the word rough. “I’m sorry. I know you didn’t mean-”

“ _ I’m _ sorry,” Essek interrupts, sliding into place beside Caleb and wrapping a gentle arm around him. Essek will always forgive Caleb; there is nothing to forgive, but he will forgive him anyways. The way Caleb forgave him. The way they are each still trying to forgive themselves. Maybe one day, they will both believe it. “I’m sorry, Caleb; I should have thought-”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It’s not yours either.”

Silence hangs between them for a long moment. Caleb’s trembling slowly fades, then stops altogether. Essek doesn’t move, just holding him.

“I feel so clumsy with you, sometimes,” Essek says at last. “I wish I could protect you. I wish I could make you feel safe.”

“You do make me feel safe,” Caleb says. “But you cannot protect me. Not from this. Not from myself, from my past.”

Essek sighs. “I know.”

“It’s always going to be like this, you know,” Caleb says softly. “It won’t stop. I am always going to be one wrong step away from disaster. I am always going to be -- broken.”

“You are not broken,” Essek says, firm and certain. If he says it strongly enough, loudly enough, often enough, maybe one day Caleb will believe it. 

Caleb shrugs. “You know what I mean,” he says. “No matter how careful you are, no matter what we do, there will always be a risk.” He brushes his fingers along the angry red spots on Essek’s wrists. “I am always terrified that next time, it will be worse. I do not want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” Essek says. “I think you’re forgetting that I know a few spells myself. I can protect myself.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Caleb says. “Not from me.”

“You shouldn’t have to protect yourself from me,” Essek points out. 

“That’s not-”

“The same, I know, but it is,” Essek says. “You want to keep me safe. I want to keep you safe. Neither of those things is entirely possible. Neither of those things is guaranteed. But we try anyways. I will keep trying. Until you tell me to stop.”

Caleb leans against Essek’s side. “I will never tell you to stop,” he says.

Essek smiles. “I hope not,” he says. “Anyways. Eggs or pancakes?”

He feels slightly guilty, pushing Caleb to work so quickly, but he knows that it’s not really work to him, that the cooking will make Caleb feel better. And indeed, Caleb’s head rises slightly at the question, finally looking at Essek, meeting his eyes, and there’s a spark of lightness in his eyes again.

“Which do you want?” Caleb asks.

“Whatever you make will be delicious.” Caleb pouts at him for a moment, and Essek relents. “Pancakes,” he says. “Do we have fruit?”


	2. Light the Starless Skies

_Essek is the moon. He is beautiful. He is gentle. He is soft. He is ever-changing, always a mystery, always full of secrets Caleb longs to unravel. But when the moon is high in the sky, the nightmares come. Essek will hold him through the nightmares. He will be the light through the darkness, on the darkest nights._

Caleb wakes up with a scream trapped in his throat. He makes no sound, silence drilled into him through pain and fear, but Essek hears him. Caleb feels Essek’s thin fingers wrap around his waist, pulling him close, holding him through the shakes.

“Another nightmare?” he murmurs.

Caleb nods wordlessly. It doesn’t bear explaining, doesn’t bear repeating. 

“I’m here,” Essek murmurs, soft and grounding. “You’re here.” There’s a soft “Mrrrp!” from the foot of the bed, and Essek chuckles. “Frumpkin would like to remind you that he is also here.”

Caleb can’t help smiling. Well, he almost smiles. Well, he doesn’t actually move, but he appreciates the idea nonetheless, even though he can’t speak, can barely move, can’t do anything except shake and breathe. 

He feels Essek’s chest expand behind him, then slowly shrink with his exhale. He focuses on that, focuses on the sensation of someone else’s breathing, and slowly, he can feel his own lungs start to match it. He can feel his heart beating a little less frantically, can feel his limbs trembling a little less violently. 

“That’s it,” Essek murmurs, half-asleep again. “Easy does it. You’re here. I’m here. We’re here.” 

Caleb lifts a hand to scratch his nose, releasing a shuddering breath in relief that he can. It’s only been four minutes and thirty-six seconds and he’s already almost recovered. It’s astonishing, really. He’s had nightmare shakes that lasted over an hour. But these days, things are better, and he thinks he knows the reason why.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his voice rough and barely audible. 

Essek’s murmurs stop. “Of course,” he says after a moment. 

It’s not of course. It’s never of course. The fact that Essek cares is a miracle that Caleb never expected. The fact that he _can_ comfort Caleb is twice the miracle. 

The fact that he stayed after the first time, or the second, or the third, seems simply incomprehensible. He stayed, when Caleb woke up clawing violently at imagined attackers, drawing blood from Essek’s chest and face. He stayed, when Caleb woke up and vomited all over the bed and both of them. He stayed, when Caleb’s nightmares didn’t go away, when Caleb told him they never would, when Caleb told him why, when Caleb told him what he saw in his dreams. He stayed. He held Caleb, drenched in sweat or blood or bile. He whispered soothing words, quiet comforts, tender truths. He stayed.

Caleb knows Essek is not innocent. He is not without darkness, without secrets. There are nights that Essek lies awake, stares at the ceiling for hours, says nothing at all. Caleb does not ask him to talk. Caleb lays his head on Essek’s chest, listens to the sound of his heart beating, the reminder that they are both here, both alive, both have blood in their veins even if they also have blood on their hands. He lets Essek’s fingers tangle in his hair, twining mindlessly through them like he’s trapped in them, like if he just works hard enough he might someday be able to unravel the tangled web he stares at. It isn’t true, of course. They both know it. But it is something to do. It is something to say “I am here” to say “I was here” to say “I am not who I was” to say “I cannot change what I did” to say “I have become more than what I did.”

Caleb knows enough about lies to know that if you hear a lie often enough, it starts to sound like the truth. He wonders when that day will come for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who made [Essek Week](https://essek-week.tumblr.com/) happen, as well as all these bonus prompts -- I'll take any excuse to love my fave hotboi.  
> And thank you to _you_ for reading! Feel free to drop a kudos or a comment to support my dopamine addiction to AO3 emails. Stay safe, stay home, don't forget to love each other, and eventually it'll be Thursday again.


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